Chapter 4: Malcolm Loves Rachel

January 1999

I got back home that evening with a nice little sunburn that I had to explain to my wife Rachel.

“A boat ride? A boat ride to an island for the sake of not being overheard? You have got to be kidding!”

She seemed surprised but when you compare that to some of the wild and nutty things that I have investigated, I was surprised that she would even bat an eyelash. Rachel and I are close, knowing each other so well, that I would really be surprised that I could keep anything from her. Being truthful has always been a good policy up to this point. Rachel and I have been married for about fifteen years. I am forty-five while she is an attractive forty-three. We have a pair of twins, Jennifer and Jonathan, nine years old. My family is quite ordinary. We just started later in life. We are conservative, registered Republican voters, both with good educations, nice home, etcetera, and etcetera. We have few vices. For Miami, we would be considered boring. If I had to list my vices, I guess it would be that I do not always eat healthy. Fast food is starting to become a habit with me. Moreover, it is starting to show. I am not in the best athletic shape I could be in either.

There! I have said it. Now, let me go hide my face in shame!

Rachel, on the other hand, is in great shape. She works out often, showing herself to be in remarkably toned and lean condition. Rachel is five foot eight inches tall, one hundred seventeen pounds, with gentle brown eyes and long thick brunette hair. She possesses sharp features, full lips, and an ample bosom, touting envious measurements. Rachel had always been dedicated to looking good, but not consumed by her appearance. Vain does not describe her though, as she is not afraid to get her hands dirty. Her body still emits a considerable sexual allure even at her age, but she in no way flaunts it. When she wants to, she can get dressed wickedly to the hilt so that she will turn the heads of many when she enters a room.

I consider myself a lucky man. Especially when I consider I might not have ever been able to marry her in the first place. Her parents were the kind who wanted to map out their children’s lives for them. Rachel had different ideas. I was not in her parent’s plan for her, but I thank God that He put us together.

I had a nice supper with Rachel and the kids. All the while, the kids were talking about how terrible it was to kill people’s pets. Rachel sensed that I was somewhat preoccupied. On the evening news, they had seen my report regarding the incident with Francisco Cordero and his depraved past times. She turned off the television set before we had sat down to eat.

Rachel asked, “Are you okay, dear? I mean you seem somewhat shaken up yourself about this.”

I nodded my head, affirming I was okay, but I kept the thoughts about the events of the day, what Lou was going through, to myself. It was enough to shatter my faith in mankind, that this man could somehow rise above all this evil. Then I remembered what the Bible says about the nature of man. I remembered how man, when he places himself in high places, is doomed to abase himself. History is replete with examples of men who would be gods. Where are they now? They are as dead as the most ordinary and common people who lived in their kingdoms. It was moments like these that I clung to my belief in Christ, that no matter what the world was going through, God was still in control, still sitting on his throne and walking with me. Knowing that, well, that is what gets me through times like this. It helps to insulate me from the discouragement that I see daily.

I did not want to jump the gun on what I thought this might be. However, I did feel an inner urge from the “ghost hunter” in me to investigate this one to the end. This was no “run of the mill” type of cult. I saw no evidence of mind control, nor did I recall any malicious recruitment practices going on. I actually saw nothing but the carcasses of some peoples” unfortunate pets. These pets had the misfortune of meeting their demise at the hands of the likes of Francisco Cordero.

I hoped that I could get Lou to get me an interview somehow. After dinner, I went to my computer and typed an email to Lou asking for permission to interview or at least have access to the interview tapes. Lou could arrange for me to be present as a subject matter expert on the occult for the police. It would be a long shot.

Later that night after everyone had gone to bed, I could hear the wind blowing through the trees outside. The dog, Ticker, (because her paws always clicked on the wood and tile floors) a black Labrador retriever came into the room whining and whimpering. She hid herself in the closet as she usually does when thunder booms and the lightning bolts light up the Florida night sky.